


Oak Trees Will Get You in the End

by knightinbrightfeathers



Series: Penny and Agatha's guide to kicking teenhood in the butt [3]
Category: Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: DEAL WITH IT, F/F, M/M, emotional dubcon, so basically all the cameos here are the ponds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:07:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3630975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightinbrightfeathers/pseuds/knightinbrightfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agatha recruits Penelope to her evil mastermind plan: retribution and matchmaking in one fell swoop. The plan is, well, evil mastermind says it all, really, although ‘Agatha has more drama in her than Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables put together’ has a nice ring to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oak Trees Will Get You in the End

“I,” said Agatha, “want revenge.”

Agatha Wellbelove was widely considered in Watford as a force to be reckoned with. Most people, from the circles of friends she had woven around herself from day one to the smallest, pimpliest first year, would mask a shudder at the thought of her planning revenge. Agatha may have been a beacon of beauty and goodness and sunshine and whatever the social equivalent of angel cake was, but she was fearsome. The Wellbelove family had honed social matches to a fine art, and centuries of careful breeding had produced Agatha Karin Wellbelove, who was a strategic genius with excellent fashion taste. (It really was a shame that she wouldn’t produce any offspring. Mrs. Wellbelove often mused in future years that if only Miss Bunce were male, their child would have been truly formidable.)

However, Agatha had not made her announcement to anyone who was likely to scream and run away in panic. No, recently Agatha had cut down on consorting with such weak beings, and spent more and more time with people such as Simon Snow, who persisted in the belief that almost everyone was good deep down despite copious evidence to the contrary, and Baz Pitch, who had reduced a Russian diplomat to tears at the age of five (and not by being adorable.) She had announced it to Penelope Bunce.

Penelope didn’t even look up from her tablet, which displayed the main page of Warlock Weekly. “What is it this time?”

Agatha abandoned her poise and flopped down onto the grass at Penelope’s feet. “Remember when Baz and Simon wouldn’t let me come with them to the oak in the middle of the catacombs?”

“How could I forget? It was last month.” Penelope tapped the crossword and hummed at the clues thoughtfully. “The tree turned out to be ensorcelled to attack vampires as well as anyone too gandry for it. What was the excuse Baz used with Nurse Pond?”

“’My bloody roommate decided I was too attractive to live,’” Agatha said, in perfect imitation of Baz’s arrogant tone. “He was so proud of himself.”

“I remember.” Penelope typed ‘denial’ into 4 down. “Simon’s splutter was a thing of beauty.”

“I wonder what the shade of red he blushes is called,” Agatha said dreamily.

“Oblivious Maroon,” Penelope said with a smile, and Agatha snickered. “But careful. Talk like that and people will start thinking you’re in love with him.”

“Ew. Don’t remind me of fourth year.” Agatha wrinkled her nose and leaned her head against Penelope’s knees.

“Simon still thought he had a chance last year,” Penelope continued.

“Simon still thinks that Basil hates him with the burning passion of a thousand suns. The boy’s a lost cause,” Agatha said. She twirled a lock of golden hair around her finger idly. “And you’re trying to change the subject.”

“Not trying. I succeeded. What’s a stone found in the stomach of a goat? Six letters, second letter e.”

“It’s disgusting, that’s what it is. You’re trying to distract me again.”

“It’s working, isn’t it?” Penelope twisted her mouth at ‘a flower used to cause memory loss in traditional Greek potions’.

“Penelopeee.”

Penelope sighed, at the young woman badgering her as well as at the sad state of crosswords these days. “You want revenge for Baz and Simon not letting you come with them? I think they’ve been punished enough, don’t you? I mean, they are going over every tree in the woods now.”

“It’s not punishment, it’s revenge. They’re not the same thing.” Agatha looked up at her girlfriend, who was sporting the slightly frantic expression of an intelligent person who just couldn’t let you live in ignorance anymore.

“Yes they are,” she said, and flipped her tablet over to show Agatha five across.

“I hate Warlock Weekly. Their politics coverage is abysmal. Anyways, I think you’ll like the revenge I’ve got in mind.”

Penelope flipped the cover of her tablet shut and set it aside. “I want no part of this.”

“We’ve got a year and a half of school left. That’s a year and a half of watching them sneak infatuated glances at each other and talk to us awkwardly about their feelings.” Agatha scanned Penelope’s face for signs of giving in. “Can you really stand eighteen more months of antagonism and homoerotic subtext in every word?”

Penelope considered the prospect for a moment. “Let’s hear it, then.”

Agatha looked around. Penelope’s favorite spot for quiet and concentration, the boulder overlooking the lake, was isolated even on such a nice Sunday morning. Nevertheless, she beckoned Penelope closer.

— - —

“You do realize that your plan is absolutely convoluted,” Penelope said.

“Yeah, so?”

“And that you should be sitting in a high-backed chair and stroking a white cat while laughing manically.”

“Your point?”

Penelope leaned forward and planted a kiss on Agatha’s forehead. “Okay.”

— - —

“Baz.” Simon poked his roommate until Baz turned to him with a scowl that was, frankly, impressive, since he had only been interrupted in finishing his history homework.

“I’m trying to work here,” he began, and paused. Simon hadn’t even reacted to his scowl, and he looked as if a basilisk was about to eat him. Baz checked for basilisks- it wouldn’t be the first time a dangerous creature had entered Watford undetected- and found none. “What is it?” His tone might have been called fondly perplexed, by anyone sufficiently suicidal.

“Look,” Simon said, and pointed at Penelope and Agatha. The girls were sitting a few tables down the study hall, and were huddled together, whispering. Occasionally they’d look at the boys and duck their heads down again.

“They’re in a relationship, Snow. It’s a bit disgusting, but they’re allowed to giggle and nuzzle.”

“They’re planning something,” Simon said, with the dull resigned horror that anyone with mischievous older siblings recognizes. He didn’t have any siblings, as far as he knew, but Penelope fulfilled the role of big sister with frighteningly well-meaning enthusiasm. “We’re going to wake up tomorrow hanging upside down from the dining hall ceiling in fluffy pink sweaters.”

“If they were planning anything, they would be much less obvious about it,” Baz said, filing away the pink sweater idea for future use. “It is worrying, though.”

Baz only had younger siblings, who worshipped him and ran up to hug his legs when he came home for the summer hols. He was not nearly as worried as he should have been.

“Baz, they’re evil geniuses.”

“Shut up and finish your math homework,” Baz said.

— - —

The map spread out on Simon’s bed had undergone a lot since it had come into the world under Agatha’s hand and Penelope’s precise direction. It was not rumpled and torn and waterstained and bloodstained, although it was creased. This was because it had been spelled whole at least half a dozen times, but Baz thought that what Penelope didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. She’d been so worried when she handed it over, although she’d done her best to hide it. It was also marked by the oak’s magic in runes that gave Baz a headache.

“There’s nothing for it,” Simon said. “The spell’s almost finished, but we need to use the runes, and for that-”

“I need the potion to make the runes legible,” Penelope completed. “Luckily for you, the ingredients aren’t as rare as they might have been. Most of them you have in your chemistry kits. We do need bottled wet merwolf fur and trailing bittersweet. You should find those in the cupboards of the chemistry class. They’re just common enough so that they aren’t locked up too securely.” Penelope looked pleased with herself.

Baz was not. “What do you mean, you?”

“You and Simon will go fetch the ingredients. I’ll make the potion. I know you’re good at chemistry, Baz,” Penelope said when he protested, “but I’m better than you at concealing charms, and we don’t want anyone to find the potion while it’s still brewing.”

“Fine.” Baz sighed and got up from the uncomfortable kneeling position next to Simon’s bed. He tamped down on the mental images ‘kneeling position next to Simon’s bed’ conjured and ignored the fact that he had stopped calling his roommate Snow everywhere but to his face.

“Agatha? Don’t you want to come?” Simon asked. The suspicion in his voice was so obvious that Baz felt the need to take him aside and explain the basics of concealment. Or something.

“Oh, I’d just be in the way,” Agatha said, with barely concealed annoyance in her voice. “You know me, always bothering you when you’re being important and saving the world.”

“Jolly good, then,” Baz said loudly. “We’ll go tonight.”

“You will?” Penelope asked, an eyebrow raised.

“We will?” Simon asked. “You don’t want to plan, Baz?”

“We’ve pulled this off a few times before, usually from more secure rooms and cupboards. And tonight’s hall monitor is Sir Schwartz, which was donated by the Pitches, so it’ll be easy to deal with if it catches us. Which it won’t, because the lab is low priority.” The hall monitors, suits of armor with all sorts of tricks hidden up their gauntlets, were not known for their speed, hearing or sight. Baz was confident that he and Simon would be safe.

“As you wish,” Simon said.

— - —

“Will this work?” Penelope asked, looking out the door nervously as Agatha fiddled with the angle of her mirror. It was stuck under the helmet of Sir Schwartz, reflecting the screen that had given the hall monitors their name, when they’d been installed a few decades ago. Before that, there had been robots.

“It’s not such a difficult spell, considering I’ve got a mirror as an instrument,” Agatha muttered. “They really should watch these things better.” Although they’d been in the storage closet the hall monitors lived in when they weren’t on for half an hour, no one had caught them.

“Hmm. I’m beginning to think that Baz is right when he says this school was run by someone with the management skills of a toddler,” Penelope said.

“When does he say that?” Agatha squinted through the slit of the helmet.

“Oh, only every other day,” Penelope said with a grin.

“Right. See me, see me not.” There came a faint *pling* from within the helmet, and Agatha pulled her mirror out. “I think I managed to twist it around. You know, it’s a very good artifact, I don’t know why my family was worried when it chose me.” She got down from the stool she was on. Penelope tapped it with her ring, and the stool disappeared to a ‘go to your room’.

“I feel a little bad about doing this to them,” Penelope said. She peeked out, saw that the hall was empty, and stepped out of the closet quickly. “But then I remember that it’s only going to scare them a little, and I remember all the times that Baz stole my breakfast pancakes, and I feel better.” She looked back at Agatha. “Well? Are you coming out of the closet or not?”

“Very funny,” Agatha retorted. “I’ll have you know that I was never in-” A professor turned the corner, and the girls smiled politely and walked away from the closet.

“I know, I know,” Penelope said, and took Agatha’s hand. It worked like a charm. Agatha shut up and gave her a smile that would have melted even the hardest of hearts. Penelope’s heart had never been hard, and the kissing and cuddling and feelings-sharing that made up their relationship had softened it to the consistency of maple syrup. She smiled back.

— - —

The chemistry class cupboards, Simon felt, could do with some labels. He and Baz had split the four separate cupboards that lined the back of the chemistry class between them, and they still hadn’t found anything. Simon felt that if there had been room for another cupboard, Professor Chilblains would have squeezed one in, and found more nasty things to put in it. As it was, there was a narrow gap between the wall and one of the cupboards.

They were also perilously exposed, because the door was open- the unlocking spell was enough of a risk once, Baz had said, let alone twice. It was complicated, and if you want to do an advanced spell by yourself after not having fed for a fortnight, Snow, go ahead.

Simon shook his head to clear it of Baz, a method which was working less and less lately.

“Stop fidgeting and look for the merwolf hair already,” Baz hissed.

“I am looking,” Simon hissed back. “Just because you found the bittersweet doesn’t mean-”

— - —

In her room, Agatha glanced at her mirror and smiled at the ceiling. Then, she closed her eyes and fell asleep with the calm of a general whose trained troops have completely surrounded the small family of stoned unarmed anarchists they’ve been sent to get rid of.

— - —

“What,” Baz said, his voice panicky and too loud, “was that?”

“What?” Simon’s eyes landed on a vial full of hairs floating in liquid. “Found it!” He took the vial and looked at Baz in triumph. “Let’s go.”

Baz was looking at the door, and in the silence Simon could hear heavy, clanking steps.

“Shit,” he said.

Baz looked as if he agreed, but instead of swearing, he grabbed Simon’s arm and shoved him into the gap. Then he pressed in after Simon, and said, “Shhh.”

Simon nodded, wide-eyed, and both boys listened to the footsteps near the chemistry class. It seemed to take forever.

Baz smelled of mint and forest…

“Your heartbeat is too loud,” Baz whispered.

“Well, I can’t exactly stop it, can I,” Simon said, frowning.

“No, but you can calm it. Breathe.” Baz pressed the hand holding the sachet of bittersweet to his own chest and demonstrated slow, deep breathing.

Simon tried to imitate him, but he couldn’t help his nervous panting.

“Calm,” Baz repeated. “Calm.” He pressed his other hand to Simon’s chest, over his heart.

This is counterproductive, Simon thought. It didn’t help that they were incredibly close, and that he could feel the heat of his own breath rebounding from Baz’s face.

“You’re not calming down,” Baz said. He looked into Simon’s eyes as if he could find the explanation there, and answers to a hundred different questions, and maybe he can, Simon thought light-headedly.

“Your eyes are very grey,” he said, and immediately felt his face heat up. “I mean, they’re a lot of different shades. Like storm clouds, changing all the time.”

“Snow,” Baz said gently. “You’re mad.”

“Yes, I know, thank you,” Simon said, and Baz giggled.

A clanging footstep sounded, and Baz clamped his mouth shut and leaned ever so slightly away from Simon and towards the door. It was a bit disappointing, actually.

They kept silent until after Simon could no longer hear a thing. He could, however, feel Baz pressed very close against him.

“Baz,” he said, when he thought he would go mad with the silence and the tension, “what are you thinking about?”

“Table settings,” Baz said promptly.

"Table settings?" Simon smiled. "Pull the other one, it’s got bells on."

"They’re very useful when you don’t want to think about-things." There was a pause pregnant enough to give birth to triplets. "It’s gone," Baz said abruptly and nearly fell out of their hiding place in haste.

"Why was it even here? I’ve broken into worse places without running into a hall monitor," Simon said, as they crept up the classroom door.

"Noise? Or maybe just our karma." They ran as quietly as they could to the dorms. If Simon stayed closer than he needed to, well, he was still nervous.

They were caught anyways, but at least the sleepy dorm head who caught them didn’t suspect them of stealing. He just looked at them sympathetically and gave them a week of detention.

— - —

"Happy birthday, Pen," Baz said the next day at breakfast. "I got you a present." He handed over a small bundle, wrapped in a monogrammed handkerchief, of all things.

"You shouldn’t have. Especially since it isn’t my birthday," Penelope said, taking the bundle and pocketing it. "But thank you anyways."

"So, how long will it take for you to make the potion?" Simon asked, pouring himself a glass of orange juice. His attempt at nonchalant behavior would have been suspicious, if he hadn’t gotten into the habit of saving the world every year. Whenever anyone saw Simon Snow lurking around the grounds, they assumed he was going to do his hero shtick and carefully looked the other way.

"A while. I think I need to take a closer look at the runes, too. They’re something I’ve only read about," Penelope said. "It’s very interesting, because the magic itself carries accents that changes the meaning of the different components of each rune. The essence remains the same, but the execution could change-"

"Penny, please, it’s too early for this," Simon said. "Some of us were up late last night."

Agatha snickered.

"Shut up," Simon muttered, his face flushing, and Agatha patted his arm comfortingly.

"There, there. You don’t have to tell us your widdle secwet, poor widdle Simon."

"You’re worse than Baz," Simon moaned, burying his head in his hands.

"I resent that," Baz said, and returned Agatha’s grin.

— - —

Penelope’s potion smelled of nothing, looked like water, and bubbled away cheerfully in her chemistry set as if their whole plan didn’t hinge upon it.

"It’s such a simple potion, and so useful! It’s amazing how the addition of snapdragon root eliminates the smell completely, isn’t it? Usually it only makes the potion transparent." Penelope tapped the thermometer. "Pass me the tongs, will you? It’s done."

Agatha passed her the tongs. “This looks disgusting.” She peered at the second chemistry set, which sat on Penelope’s shelf. It held something that could have passed for cooking mud. “What is it?”

"Cooking mud," Penelope said. "In case the boys ask after the potion. I’m thinking of telling Simon that he has to drink it."

"That would be cruel," Agatha said. "He’d actually do it." She watched as Penelope poured the potion into an old fashioned flask and corked it.

"Ta da!" Penelope picked up the flask. "Ready for your counseling session?"

"Definitely. I’ve been going to sessions for years. It’s good practice for tea parties," Agatha said.

"I still think that forcing someone to tell the truth isn’t real therapy."

Agatha pecked her on the cheek. “It’s the gandry half of you, I suppose.”

— - —

"It was lucky that I thought to look at the runes again," Penelope said. "I thought I understood them completely, but they’re a different kind altogether. It could have been a disaster. But-"

"Let me guess," Baz said. "You need a special book. And it can’t be found in the library." He flopped back onto his bed. "What now? Tower of London? The Pentagon? The Mage’s underwear drawer?" Simon looked faintly green at the last.

"Professor River’s study."

"The counselor?" Baz sat up.

"She teaches runes to those students who need something extra," Penelope said.

"Why aren’t you in those classes, Penny? You’re definitely smart enough," Simon said. He was leaning awkwardly on the edge of Baz’s bed, as if he wanted to sit but couldn’t get up the courage.

"Waste of time," Penelope said primly. "It’s just to impress universities, and I don’t need classes in a useless subject for that, thank you very much."

"Okay, so we’ll go tonight," Simon said. "Which book is it?"

"How do you know it’s there?" Baz asked.

"Patricia’s Puzzling Pictograms, and I asked the professor. She offered to add me to the class, but I told her that I didn’t have time for anything other than independent study. Which is true, by the way, true, since I spend half my free time on your quests, Simon," she said pointedly.

"Speaking of your free time, where’s Agatha?" Baz asked suddenly.

"I have no idea how you made that connection, but we’re not attached at the hip." Penelope flicked a braid over her shoulder and got up from her seat on Simon’s chair.

"Just at the mouth-"

"Tyrannus Basilton Pitch," Penelope said, suddenly not regretting any suffering caused by Agatha’s plan of not-really-revenge. "If you finish that sentence, I will make sure that every drop of blood you drink turns into cough syrup."

"Pax," Baz said, holding his hands up in surrender.

— - —

"Second time this week we’re breaking into a study. I hate my life," Baz said.

"You didn’t protest when I said we should go tonight," Simon pointed out. He frowned at the lock and tapped it with his wand again. "Open Sesame. It’s not working.”

"Of course not. Professor River isn’t stupid; she knows that the classrooms and studies in Watford get broken into. Not just by our merry band, either," Baz said. "Stand back." He pointed his wand at the middle of the door and enunciated clearly, ‘it doesn’t do wood’. The door swung open.

"Was that even a real spell?" Simon asked.

"It worked, didn’t it?" They stepped into the empty study, and the door shut behind them.

"Hey!" Simon grabbed the doorknob and turned it back and forth. "It won’t open!"

"Let me try the spell," Baz said.

It didn’t work. Neither did the other eight spells they tried.

"What now?" Simon asked.

Baz lifted his wand. ‘Let there be light’.

"Oh," Simon said, as he took in the writing on the door.

Dear Simon and Baz, it read,

These words are written in a voice-triggered potion. To leave, you must answer the question correctly.

The question was of a very personal nature.

"But how will it know? Emotions are complicated," Simon said nervously.

"The better the potion is, the more exact its demands will be…These potions are usually for facts…" Baz’s expression turned into one of weary defeat. "It’s the counselor’s office. It’s under a truth spell."

"Oh." Simon stared at the door, and sat down on the thick Persian carpet.

"I am really upset right now," Baz said carefully. "I’d like to shout at Penelope for a while."

"Agatha is probably in on it too," Simon said.

"I’d like to shout at her too, then." Baz joined Simon on the floor. "I suppose we should begin."

The question was very simple.

How do you feel about each other?

"This," Baz said, with feeling, "is not going to be fun at all."

"It’ll be easier for you," Simon said.

"Not really." Baz thought about trying to use a certain swearword he used on special occasions. He had a feeling that it would turn into a confession, though, and a rather embarrassing one.

"I’m in love with you," Simon said morosely. "It feels like you think of me as a kid brother sometimes, or like you only tolerate me because you feel sorry for me. But I think you’re amazing and clever and noble and really attractive and sometimes when I’m in bed I think of you and-" He clapped a hand over his mouth.

"I don’t feel sorry for you," Baz said. He struggled to keep his thoughts to himself, but the truth spell was extremely strong. It made him want to volunteer information. "You’re strong and brave and you have so much magic that I can almost smell it and I don’t know why you can’t use it properly but I think it has to do with the Mage who’s an evil git and treats you like some kind of blunt instrument but you’re more like a sword and when I say that I think of what you said before about when you’re in bed and I’d really like to have sex with you and touch your hair because it looks really soft and your mouth looks soft too and I’d like to kiss you and have a lot of sex."

The writing on the door faded away, but neither boy noticed it.

There was silence.

“You mentioned sex twice,” Simon said weakly.

“Vampirism doesn’t rid me of teenage hormones,” Baz snapped.

There was a slightly shorter silence.

"I think the door’s open," Simon said, and got up. The knob turned easily.

Baz looked around the study. “There isn’t any book called Patricia’s Puzzling Pictograms in here,” he said finally.

"Come on," Simon said, and took his hand. "Let’s go."

— - —

"There is no such book as Patricia’s Puzzling Pictograms, is there," Baz said, in lieu of a ‘good morning’.

"There isn’t, more’s the pity. The academic world is very sexist," Penelope said with a reproving sniff. "Sit down, please."

“You tricked us,” Simon said. “Did we-” he looked around the dining hall- “did we break into the lab for nothing?”

"The ingredients were for the door potion. Which, since you’re both here and ganging up on us together, I assume was successful? You have sex hair," Agatha informed Simon.

"It’s bed hair," he said testily. "We were too tired to do anything, running around on a, a wild goose chase." He tried combing his hair with his fingers, but only made it stick up even more.

"But you wanted to, and you didn’t spend the night mentally composing sad poetry about each others’ eyelashes. I consider that a success." Agatha tore a piece of toast in half. "Did you know, Penelope, that Professor River’s truth spell is combined with a stream-of-consciousness spell? I told her the plan, but luckily, she was more than willing to help me. She said, and I quote, ‘It’s about time, too.’ I had to make a few changes to the plan on the spot, and tactics aren’t really my thing, but it turned out pretty well."

"Yes, I know. You told me yesterday."

"I hate you both," Baz said coldly, "and so does Simon."

"Look, Penelope! He called him Simon, not Snow. They’re so cute." Agatha’s smile was predatory. "Tell me, boys, what did we learn from this experience?"

"That… we… like… each other?" Simon said hesitantly.

"Yes, yes, apart from that, way to go, no more unresolved sexual tension. It’s a boon to the whole school. You learned," Agatha flared her hands dramatically, "not to underestimate me!"

"This is all about not letting you come to the oak?" Simon stared at her, and turned beseeching eyes to Penelope. "Penny, please tell me she blackmailed you into it."

"Not really. I’m glad you two are together, by the way." Penelope smiled at them and leaned into Agatha. "Also, guess what? I did have trouble interpreting the runes, but I finally figured it out. The next person to regrow the tree has to be female, because of biology."

"I hate you so much," Baz said. Simon patted him comfortingly on the back.

— - —

"It really was a mean thing to do," Simon told Baz as they sat in the infirmary. Penelope was in class. Agatha’s encounter with the oak the previous night had left her mostly unharmed, but drained of energy. She was under the influence of sleeping pills.

"I’ll get back at them," Baz said comfortably, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of Simon’s hand.

"I want in on that," Simon said.

"The Mage’s Heir, out for revenge? I’m shocked," Baz said, pressing a hand to his cheek and raising his eyebrows. Simon bumped his shoulder, and he grinned. "Okay. Pitch and Snow, the mighty avengers. Avengers assemble!"

"Oh my god, shut up," Simon said.

"Make me," Baz said.

**Author's Note:**

> Agatha’s namesake, Karin Svensdotter, is known in the gandry world as the woman who claimed that she’d been seduced and impregnated by the King of the Faeries seven times, and that each time he took their children with him.  
> In the World of Mages, Karin Svensdotter is known as the half-faery, half-mage woman who managed not to get killed despite the seizures induced by her magical blood. Whether she actually did the frick-frack with His Majesty is up for debate.  
> I imagine that Mrs. Wellbelove chose the name because you have to be really clever and charismatic to convince the church in the 17th century not to execute you. Karin Svensdotter was allegedly saved by the prayers of her community, and again, you have to be really good to convince anyone of that.  
> Credit to rhien for anything related to Agatha's mirror.


End file.
